


there is enough (so ask for more)

by fromiftowhen



Category: Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Related, F/M, Feelings, Feelings Realization, First Time, Light Angst, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:21:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27671282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromiftowhen/pseuds/fromiftowhen
Summary: “I don't want you to tell me something I already know,” she says. “I know you don't want me to take the job, I know you want me to be happy. I just want you to tell me why.”His eyes widen, just for a moment, their green so bright in her kitchen it feels like daylight.It's there. It's on the tip of his tongue. She knows it's what got him off the couch and into his truck and to her door, propelling him right to her at 1 AM.OR -- Jay finally finds the words... in his own way.
Relationships: Jay Halstead/Hailey Upton
Comments: 13
Kudos: 214





	there is enough (so ask for more)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! I know. You're probably thinking, 'this is not the fic I was waiting for.' And I get it. I do. But the promo for 8x03 broke me in the best way, and this had to happen. It wouldn't leave me alone.
> 
> This is _possibly_ closer to a T rating than an M, but rating to be on the safe side. Is this how I think it'll go in canon? Probably not... but I can dream.
> 
> Title from More Love by Sara Bareilles. 
> 
> I'm fromiftowhen on Tumblr -- let's be friends!

“You know, you could tell me you don’t want me to take it.” 

Maybe he should have seen it coming, the challenge in her voice, the one she knows he can never back down from, the way she’d stopped him with just a sentence as he was getting ready to leave. 

But he didn’t see it coming at all. The whole week has been like this, one weird thing right after another. A weird case, a letter on Hailey’s desk from the FBI, a package and Platt’s inquisitive tone alerting them, Hailey’s happy, almost-smug voice telling him about a joint level task force over beers. 

So he’s a little caught off guard when she says it like it’s some foregone conclusion that he can just… say those words and it’ll be okay, it’ll be easy. She says them so boldly like there isn’t a doubt in her mind it’s what he’s thinking. 

And obviously, yeah, she’s right. She _always_ is, and she knows it, she knows _him._

And none of it -- nothing that’s happened this entire week, until this very moment -- surprises him. She’s badass, she deserves every job offer. And he knows she’s bold, she’s confident, she isn’t afraid to speak her mind. 

And her little smirk as she finishes speaking shouldn’t surprise him. 

It does, though. Because he knew, from the moment the words _I got an offer from the FBI_ were out of her mouth, that he didn’t want her to take it. 

He knew, without a doubt. 

He just didn’t think _she_ knew that too. 

But the way she’s just staring at him, expectantly, quietly, he knows whatever it is he’s been feeling this week, this month, these last few years as her partner… it’s all over his face. 

She’s waiting for him to tell her he doesn’t want her to take the job. 

There’s no hiding it, there’s no pretending she doesn’t know. 

There’s just the way she’s looking at him, like he could tell her, and he could have everything he’s slowly come to realize he wants. 

He could have _her,_ here, in Chicago, at work, all the time. 

He could make her happy. 

He could be happy. 

But he thinks about her voice, happy and sure, smug, as she went over the task force details. 

Her voice, far away and tinny over the phone from New York, complaining about pizza, busy with a job he knew nothing about. 

The way she’d been distracted all week as she ignored calls in his presence and opened letters when she thought no one else was in the squad room. 

The way, maybe, she might actually want this. 

This thing that doesn’t involve him, that he wouldn’t be a part of. That would take her away from him. 

This thing that might make her happy, just like she deserves to be. 

And he watches her face, so open, so expectant, so _familiar_ in such an unfamiliar situation.

And he can’t. He can’t bring himself to say the words they both clearly know he feels. 

He knows she’ll do what she wants to do, she’ll make her own decision -- it’s who Hailey is, it’s one of the best parts of her personality, even if it’s driven him up the wall over the years. 

But on the off chance that isn’t the case, on the off chance she’s somehow waiting for his input… he can’t be the one to keep her from doing what she wants. He can’t keep her from being happy, from succeeding. 

And he probably hesitates just long enough, standing by her in the bar, her eyes on him, that she knows what he’s thinking. 

“Jay--” she starts, and maybe he should let her speak. Maybe she’ll somehow be able to speak the words that are running through his mind, that have been since the moment the possibility of her leaving came up. 

But he doesn’t. 

He just shakes his head quietly, and she stops, her mouth fumbling anything else she might have said. 

“Hailey,” he says, and his voice is rough, quiet, just loud enough to be heard over the din of the bar. “You know I-- you know I can’t do that.” 

She just nods, like she’d expected it. And she probably had, he realizes. The overly confident way she’d challenged him, the way she’d waited until he stood up to leave. 

The way she _knows_ him.

“I-- I’m sorry,” he says, his voice quieter. “I’m happy for you. You know I am. You deserve this, everything.” 

She nods again, her fingers peeling at her beer label, and he shifts his weight from foot to foot. 

“It’s okay,” she says, finally, looking up at him, and some of that confidence, some of that sass is gone. 

And he knew it would backfire a little, his need to not shove his opinion into her decision, his unwillingness to play any negative part in her deciding on her own happiness. 

He just hadn’t known it would take that confident, sassy, _sexy_ spark out of her eyes like it has. He hadn’t counted on it feeling like this. 

LIke there was no right choice. 

LIke either way, he’s managed to hurt both of them. 

He can’t just stand here, watching her, waiting for her to make up her mind about a job that might just change his life as much as it would change hers. 

But still, he watches her, because he can’t look away. 

He can never look away. 

She’s picking at the shredded beer label, but she glances up to give him a small half-smile, that one that’s so familiar when she doesn’t know what to say, when she knows _he_ doesn't know what to say. 

“It’s okay, Jay. Really,” she says, and he’s heard it from her before. 

It’s an out, for both of them. 

And normally, he doesn’t take the out. Normally, it spurs him on, makes him invite himself in, makes him offer himself a drink, makes him push her to talk, to open up even when she doesn’t want to. 

But tonight. 

Tonight, he made this happen. 

Because he couldn’t _just_ say, _“that’s great, Hailey. That’s a great opportunity. They’d be lucky to have you.”_

He’d said those things, of course. Because they’re true. Because he _is_ happy for her. Because he wants whatever’s best for her, always, even when it’s not what’s best for him. 

But he’d said them after days of tension, after days of walking on eggshells around her, wanting to know more, but not wanting to push. Days of watching her wrestle with something they weren’t talking about. 

Days of wrestling with it himself. 

Days of being afraid she’d leave. Days of being afraid she _wanted_ to. 

He’d meant the words, of course. But he hadn’t tried hard enough to make her believe them. 

So he’s going to take the out she’s offering. He’s going to let her tell him it’s okay, even though they both know it’s not. 

He’s going to go, and he’s going to try to avoid hurting her more. 

“Okay,” he says because it’s all he can say. “Are you okay to drive home? I can drive you, I can walk you to the El,” he offers, trailing off. 

She smiles again, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’ve had one beer, Jay,” she says. 

He nods, reaching back to pull a couple of bills from his wallet, setting them on the table next to her. “I’m gonna go,” he tells her, quietly. 

“You don’t have to.” He can’t tell if she’s talking about the money, or him leaving, or if she’s saying he doesn’t have to tell her he doesn’t want her to take the job. 

Maybe all of those things. But he just nods. 

“Be careful getting home,” he whispers. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

She nods but doesn’t look up at him again. “Okay.” 

He wants to say something else. 

He wants to apologize for somehow making this about anything other than _her,_ her accomplishments, the joy she should be feeling. 

He wants to tell her he doesn’t want her to take the job. 

He wants to tell her exactly _why_ he doesn’t want her to take the job. 

Mostly, though, he just wants her to be happy. 

So he doesn’t say anything else. 

He just taps his hand on the table a couple of times, a pointless goodbye, and heads for the door. 

He doesn’t turn to see if she’s watching. 

——————————

She watches him leave, and she’s not okay. 

It’s not okay, no matter how many times she’d said the word.

The next day, they aren’t okay, no matter how normal they both try to make it seem. 

He still brings her coffee in the morning, just like every Friday for the last year-plus. She still reaches over to grab a pen off his desk when hers disappears. They still ride to and from a crime scene together in his truck, the citywide radio crackling between them. She still knows to turn it up when he glances over, and he still presses a palm to her shoulder to let her know he’s behind as they clear a house later that day. 

They’re still _them,_ they still work together just as well as they always have. 

_But they’re not okay._

She shouldn't have said anything. She should have just let him walk out. She knew she was pushing it, trying to get him to admit something they’d never really acknowledged before. 

But he’d been on edge all week. There’d been tension, and that look on his face that she knew meant he wanted to say something, was building to it, was slowly stringing the words together. But the words had never come. 

And she’d thought, maybe, beers, an out-of-the-way bar where they wouldn’t be interrupted, maybe that would somehow ease the tension. 

But he’d just told her the same thing Platt and Voight had told her. 

_“That’s great, Hailey. That’s a great opportunity. They’d be lucky to have you.”_

And she knew he meant the words. She’d mean them if the situation was reversed. 

But she knew they weren’t the words he’d spent the week turning over in his head, trying to get his lips to form. 

She’d thought she was making it easier on him. Giving him an opening, telling him in not-so-many words that she _wanted_ him to just _say the words._

Say any words, anything real. 

_“You know, you could tell me you don’t want me to take it.”_

_“You know I-- you know I can’t do that.”_

But she’d known the moment he hesitated, the moment his eyes met hers, that he wouldn't say it. She’d probably known before the words even left her mouth, honestly. 

Because it’s _Jay._

Jay, with the guilt complex a mile long. Jay, who pushes her to talk about things when he knows she needs it. Jay, who has to be coaxed to ever talk about his feelings, even with her, even after all this time. 

Jay, who acts on impulse and does what he’s sure is right, and puts everyone else’s needs, especially hers, above his own.

Jay, who has to process feelings into thoughts and thoughts into words and words into sentences before he can get them out. 

So, she’d known. But she’d had to try. 

She’s still turning his words over in her head as she leaves the district that night, the parking lot dark and her focus only on getting to her Jeep, getting home, and putting this week behind her. 

_“I’m happy for you. You know I am. You deserve this, everything.”_

_Everything._

It was the quiet way he’d said it, more than the actual words, that had gotten her. 

Because, for a while, for _years,_ maybe, she’s pretty sure she would have considered this job offer _everything._ A solution to a problem she wasn’t sure she ever had. A quick fix for something she couldn't name. More responsibility, more money, more power -- just a hint of what she’d gotten in New York already. 

Now? Now, she’s not so sure. 

Now, _everything_ feels a lot like beers in quiet bars, and things that work, and a partner who maybe can’t get the words out, but who looks at her like he wants to, like the fact that he can’t means something. 

She unlocks the Jeep and settles in, turning over the engine. Headlights turn on down the row, and she recognizes Jay’s truck immediately, almost more familiar to her than her own vehicle. She’d seen him walking out ahead of her a couple of minutes earlier, and she’d thought about catching up with him, letting him off the hook, apologizing for making it more than it needed to be. 

But she’d thought about the way they were just _off_ today, and she couldn’t do that again. She couldn’t go into the weekend like that. 

She waits for him to pull out, to make his left where she’ll make a right, but he just sits there. 

It feels like the parking lot version of him hesitating before walking out of the bar, and she’s not going to let herself sit and watch that again. 

She buckles her seatbelt and pulls out of her spot, and his headlights shine in her rearview as he finally pulls out behind her. He makes a left, she makes a right, and it feels pretty standard for how things have been between them lately.

It’s only as she sits at the next red light that she realizes he must have waited to make sure she got out of the parking lot safely. There’s no doubt in her mind, because it’s exactly who Jay is for her. 

He checks for her injuries before his own after gunfights and explosions. He reaches through gunfire to find a way to protect her. He’s selfless in a way that shouldn’t surprise her at this point, but always, always does.

Even when they’re not okay, he makes sure _she’s_ okay.

_“Be careful getting home.”_

——————————

It's the knock on the door that rouses her off the couch from where she's been dozing at almost 1AM. 

But it's his voice, raspy and tired, as she opens it that really wakes her up. 

“You want me to tell you I don't want you to take the job,” he says, quietly. 

She just nods, stepping back to let him in. 

“I can't do that,” he says, his voice a little more sure.

She wants to scream, honestly. 

“Jay,” she starts. “It's 1AM.”

He nods. “I know, I'm sorry. Just, let me get this out.”

She doesn't say anything, just heads for the kitchen. She can hear his footsteps behind her as she pulls glasses out of the cabinet and tequila off the bar cart. 

“I'm pretty sure I've been a dick this week, yesterday, maybe,” he says. “I know I've made this harder for you.”

She nods silently, unscrewing the bottle and watching the liquid slosh into one glass, and then two. 

Because he had. There's no denying it. 

“Every day since the letter showed up on your desk, before I even knew what the job was, I've sat across from you and thought, ‘What if this is the last time Hailey steals a pen off my desk or the last time we ride to a crime scene together. Which is… stupid, I know.” 

She glances up at him, pushing the glass across the counter. 

He doesn't pick it up, just spins it in a slow circle as he watches her for a moment. 

“But every time I thought those things, I'd immediately think, ‘what if she _wants_ it to be the last time, what if this would make her happy.”

She starts to roll her eyes, but he holds up a hand. 

“I know you're not asking me to _tell_ you not to take the job. I know you'll do what's right for you, and you just want to know what I'm thinking. Just like I'd want If the situation was reversed.”

She nods, because _yeah,_ that's exactly it. 

“Hailey, I can't tell you I don't want you to take the job. Because if it's what you want, it's what I want, for you, more than anything.”

She takes her hands off her glass, braces them on the counter, and sighs, glancing up at him. 

“Jay, you're driving me _crazy.”_

He stops, stops fidgeting in front of her, stops turning the glass in his hands. 

“I don't want you to tell me something I already know,” she says. “I _know_ you don't want me to take the job, I know you want me to be happy. I just want you to tell me _why.”_

His eyes widen, just for a moment, their green so bright in her kitchen it feels like daylight. 

It's there. It's on the tip of his tongue. She knows it's what got him off the couch and into his truck and to her door, propelling him right to her kitchen at 1AM. 

“I--” he starts, the words faltering under her gaze. 

“You can say the words, Jay. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want you to.”

“Hailey,” he says, and there's a little disbelief, a little laughter, _surprise_ in his voice. He shakes his head just slightly like he's trying to make sense of it. 

“Just… _tell me,_ Jay.”

He shakes his head again, and she's about to sigh, she's about to just tell him to not worry about it, because this could go on forever. 

But he looks at her. And she gets it, just like she always has when it comes to him. 

She knows it's going to happen a second before it does, but the way he crosses the short distance between them, the way he stops just short of backing her up against the counter, still surprises her. 

The way his lips find hers, slow, but confident, doesn't surprise her at all, though. It feels like what she's been waiting for, what she somehow knew would happen as soon as that offer showed up on her desk. 

His lips move against hers, his fingers wrap around the back of her neck, and his thumb brushes just below her ear, and she _gets it._

He's telling her exactly what she wanted to hear, with more confidence, more surety than any words ever could. 

And it shouldn't surprise her that it's how he finally did it. 

Jay is _action_ and impulse, sneaky sweetness and strong feelings. 

Jay is precision and desire, slow lips and wandering hands. 

She lets her mouth open under his, and she hopes it's an answer, a response to what he's telling her, one he gets. 

And he must, because he's smiling. He's pulling back, but he's smiling, and it takes her a second to realize she's missed it this week. His smile is rare enough as it is, but she's _needed_ it this week. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, and his thumb is still dragging down her neck, and she can't do anything but shake her head for a moment. 

She'd waited for him to find the words, and he had, in his own way. And now hers are gone in a breath of a kiss, a drag of fingers on her skin. 

“You know,” he says. “You’ve always known.”

She just nods. 

“Are you going to say anything?” 

“I turned down the job about an hour ago,” she says. He's trying not to laugh, or smile, but it's there. She can see it. 

“You couldn't have told me that ten minutes ago?” 

She just smiles, reaching out to run her hands up his chest. “Why? Wanna rewind ten minutes and not kiss me?”

He shakes his head, but he doesn't lean back in. “Why, Hailey? You seemed excited.”

“I was,” she says. “For the opportunity, and because it meant the time I spent in New York, time that started as a punishment, wasn't for nothing. Someone noticed.”

His hand is on her hip, and he doesn't say anything, he just presses his fingers against the cotton of her shorts, and she knows to continue. 

“But the job. I wasn't sure about the actual day-to-day job. There was so much paperwork and just… _bureaucracy_ with the Feds. I don’t know if I could be _me_ there. I don't know if I could do that full time, if I’d want to,” she says. 

He nods. 

“And you know. It's New York. It's not _home,”_ she says, her thumbs digging into the strong muscles at his shoulders. 

“Home is important,” he whispers. His voice is deep, low, that tone she recognizes from hospital rooms and flirty phone calls from states away. 

“Home is definitely important,” she says, leaning back against the edge of the counter and pulling him that much closer, her fingers flexing over the fabric of his shirt. “Where else would someone wait in the parking lot to make sure I got out safe?”

He leans back and his cheeks flush a little and she grins. “Yeah, well. I guess actions speak louder than words, or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” she laughs, pulling him closer again, rising up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his ear. “You gonna kiss me again, or was that just a one-time _action_ when you thought I might be leaving?”

His laugh is low and deep and sends heat straight through her. “I could tell you, or--” he starts, and then she's smiling into the kiss, biting at his lip, soothing with her tongue. 

If the first kiss was sure and confident, this one is that and more, and before she knows it, she feels frantic, like the tension, the edge that had been between them since those FBI documents showed up on her desk, has finally disappeared and now she can’t get close enough to him. It feels like she’s making up for lost time, or the time they could have lost. 

Her fingers run from his shoulders up around the back of his neck, her nails scratching up the sensitive skin and over his hair. _“Jay,”_ she whispers, her lips against his ear. 

“I know,” he murmurs, and even in those quick words she can hear his desperation, can hear how he’s just as far gone as she is. 

His fingers run down her hips to the back of her thighs, and before she can process it, the quartz is cold against her skin and she’s gasping out a quick breath as he sets her on the counter and moves between her legs, his lips finding hers again. 

He shudders out a breath as her fingers find his jaw, and she bites at his bottom lip as his fingers run up her thighs to the hem of her shirt. His fingers are warm on her skin and she pulls back for a moment to just breathe. 

“Slow down?” He asks, his lips still brushing over hers, but his fingers not inching up any higher. 

She shakes her head and reaches down, dragging her shirt up and off. “No, Jay.”

 _“Thank god,”_ he mumbles, the words muffled by her lips. She laughs into the kiss, but it turns into a quiet moan when his hands skim up her bare sides, his fingers just brushing over the curve of her breasts. 

“This doesn't seem fair,” she says, pressing her lips to his jaw and leaning forward to hook her fingers into the hem of his shirt. 

“Life should always be fair for you, Hailey,” he grins, and she just rolls her eyes, leaning back long enough to pull off his shirt. 

“Better?” He whispers, his hands on her hips now to pull her back against him. 

“Ehh,” she shrugs. “Definitely not worse.”

He just shakes his head, laughing as he leans back in, his lips on her neck. 

She lets herself fall into it, her fingers in his hair, trailing up and down his chest, sneaking just under the waistband of his jeans. 

“Hailey,” he says, glancing up from where his mouth is doing ridiculous things to the skin just below her collarbone. 

“Jay,” she says, raising her eyebrow. Her fingers pause on their way to his belt and he braces his hands on either side of her on the counter, pressing a kiss to her shoulder before meeting her eyes again. 

“You're really staying, right? Not changing your mind?”

Her fingers edge away from his waistband and she runs her thumbs back and forth over his abs. It's supposed to be calming, relaxing, but he closes his eyes and leans forward, pressing his teeth to her shoulder, and it seems to have the opposite impact. 

His eyes are heavy-lidded when he looks back up at her, the darkest green she's ever seen them. 

“I can't just do this once, Hailey. Not with you, not when it’s this good,” he whispers. 

She bites her lip, squeezing her thighs against his hips. “Jay, I promise, I'm staying,” she whispers. “Wanna see the email I sent turning down the offer?”

He rolls his eyes, but she continues. 

“I can hop down, go grab my phone,” she says, and his hands land on her hips, holding her down, making her laugh. 

“I don't think that's necessary,” he says. 

“Mmm,” she breathes out. “If you're _sure.”_

He just squeezes her hips as his lips find hers again, and it's barely a kiss, his smile and her laugh in the way, but it's good nonetheless. 

“I don't think you need to move _anywhere_ right this second,” he says, “unless it's to a bed, or the couch.”

She grins, her fingers sliding back down his stomach to his belt. “Who says we have to go anywhere?” 

He grins and lets out a shaky, surprised breath against her skin. “If you’re staying, I’m staying,” he whispers, his fingertips dragging up her thighs and sneaking under the fabric of her shorts.

“Good.” Her fingers make quick work of his belt, and if someone had told her earlier in the week that an offer from the FBI would end with her watching Jay step out of his jeans in the middle of her kitchen… well, life takes unexpected twists sometimes, but she’s not going to complain. 

It’s a rush of motion after that, like it finally feels real -- she’s staying, _this is happening,_ finally. 

He’s stepping back between her legs, his lips are on her neck, her hands are in his hair, and this, _this_ is that frantic feeling she’d had as he’d leaned back in to kiss her earlier, like he’s closer than he’s ever been, but still not close enough. 

His fingers run back under the fabric of her shorts and his thumbs hook into the sides of her panties, pulling her flush to the edge of the counter. She grins against his mouth as he presses himself against her, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips. 

“As good as this is,” he whispers, “If you ever want me to have a normal conversation with you in this kitchen, _this_ can’t happen for the first time here.” He grinds against her slowly, and she closes her eyes, breathing in deeply. 

“Mmm,” she sighs, opening her eyes. “What happened to _if you’re staying, I’m staying?”_

He smirks, snapping the fabric of her panties against her hips lightly. “KInda hoping you’ll let me go where you go, too.” 

She wraps her arms around his neck, leaning in, her lips just brushing his. “Yeah, Jay. I think that can be arranged.” 

——————————

It turns out, she looks just as good pressed up against the wall of her stairwell, and her doorframe, and spread out on her bed, her hair loose and a mess around her, as she does perched on the kitchen counter. 

He’s pretty sure he’ll never get enough of seeing her like this, grinning and relaxed and here, _staying here,_ in front of him. 

He wants to press his lips to every inch of her, wants to find all the spots that make her close her eyes and lose her focus, but she grins a mischievous little smirk at him as he eases her shorts down her legs, and he loses _his_ focus as she wraps her legs around him and pulls him back to her. 

She's smiling as he kisses her, and it might be his new favorite thing. 

Except, she rocks up against him as he covers her body with his, and no, _that’s_ definitely his new favorite thing. The kiss turns dirty and he never wants it to stop, but she makes a low, needy noise against his mouth as he grinds down against her, and he's pulling back and sliding off her panties before he can stop himself. 

He grins slow and flirty up at her from the edge of the bed. “You know, I never actually thought I’d be a fan of the Feds,” he says. “But if they’re even remotely responsible for this happening…” 

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling as his hands run up and down her calves. 

“Jay, I swear to god, I will go downstairs and get my phone and tell them I was wrong, I _do_ accept the offer, if you don’t get back up here and kiss me, right now,” she warns, and he’s laughing as his hands run up her thighs and his mouth presses against her stomach. 

“You wouldn’t,” he teases, his lips moving lower slowly. Her hand tangles in his hair and she bites her lip as he glances up at her quickly before pressing his mouth against her. “You wanna stay right here.” 

_“Jay,”_ she says, and he can hear it’s supposed to still sound like a warning, but it mostly just sounds rough and needy, and he knows he’s won when she closes her eyes. 

He just watches her for a moment, her smile relaxed, and he knows this is the farthest he’ll ever want to be from her again. 

“I knew I didn’t want you to go,” he whispers, his lips ghosting across her inner thigh, “but I didn’t know how badly I needed you to stay.” 

Her eyes open, her lips curve into a small smile, and her fingers tug at his hair, guiding him back up her body. 

_“That’s_ exactly what I needed you to say,” she whispers, her lips brushing his. 

He smiles against her mouth. 

He finally found the words. 

Anything else he might say can wait, because she kisses him, sweet and slow like they’ve got all the time in the world. 

Like they’re gonna stay right where they are. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, comments and kudos are the best!


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